Metal Gear: N313
by Mister Takeda
Summary: A heroic retelling of the events of Metal Gear 1, aka, Operation Intrude N313, through the eyes of a young Solid Snake, and his mentor and commander, the infamous mercenary known as Big Boss.


Metal Gear: N313

Big Boss lit his cigar, filling the dank briefing room with a fresh cloud of pungent smoke.

His robotic arm whirred.

"Listen, Snake," The name took him back, all the memories, painful, confusing, bizarre. He killed his mentor with that name. He fought the system, defeating armies and liberating Costa Rica from the CIA. He even fought dinosaurs. "Solid Snake."

"Hrmm.. like a penis." Solid quipped.

"Shut up, Snake." Big Boss swatted at a cloud of Cuban smoke.

"Those things are illegal, you know," the rookie quipped, lighting a lucky striker by bending the tip.

"The embargo. Yes. Politics. Do more harm than good."

"Isn't that why we're here?"

"No, Snake. Listen. A soldier.." he trailed off. He'd heard this speech before, only on the receiving end. "Forget it. The mission."

"Operation Intrude N313," the rookie grinned.

"The infiltration of Outer Heaven. You've read the briefing files?"

"I've skimmed them on the plane. Speed reading."

"Your file says you've got an IQ of 180. You scored perfectly on your field exams. Graduated first in the academy."

"That's right," Solid reclined. "I was made for this sort of work."

"Don't be so cocky, kid. You're new to FOX HOUND. This isn't the goddamn marines. This isn't even the Green Berets. There, you get hurt, they might bring back your corpse, give you a proper burial. Here, you let vital information slip, we'll kill you ourselves."

"Harsh." The rookie took a drag off his cigarette.

"We don't fuck around. You're going in alone. No weapons. No gear. Naked."

"That makes me hard!" the rookie exclaimed, aroused by the promise of challenge.

"Hence your code name."

"I was wondering about that."

"Don't let it go to your head. We've had other Snakes over the years. It didn't end well for them."

"This time will be different."

"Hrmm.."

"Hrmm.."

Big Boss scratched his shrapnel. Sometimes the similarities were uncanny. It put him on edge. He'd given the rookie the codename because of this. In field exercises he performed so similarly it was eerie. He'd stolen a cardboard box from the commissary, used it to evade his stealth trainer for hours. He'd picked up CQC almost like it was second nature. Big Boss was half convinced the rookie could have beaten the Boss herself, the way he floored Miller. He held up his entire squad of rookies with a banana he'd stolen from R&amp;D in field exercises. He was cocky, but he was good.

"I.. don't want to see you die on your first real mission, Snake. You got potential. I'd like to keep you around. FOX HOUND needs men like you, so pay attention when I tell you this."

"I'm all ears."

"Seriously, Snake, just listen." The rookie sat up in his chair, paying absolute attention to his commander. "You're going to see a lot of strange things, Snake. Question your allegiances. This is no normal mission. I just want you to remember, if it ever comes down to it, to where you feel like you have to choose, stay loyal to your mission."

"Alright."

"Pay attention. You're going to be okay." He put a metallic arm on Solid's shoulder, gazing at him with his own good eye. "What I'm saying is I believe in you, kid. Get to the sub!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

The rookie stood and walked out.

Big Boss put his cigar out on the table, leaning his head against the wall. Frustration consumed him. "I.. understand now.." Ghosts. He was speaking to ghosts. Nothing more. He lit a fresh cigar and walked out.

* * *

"Underwater entry, eh?" Solid Snake surveyed the gear laid out before him.

"Don't touch anything," Miller warned him. "We're not done prepping yet."

Master Miller was a strange creature. Half Japanese, half American, missing an arm, a leg, and, some say, his eye sight. His face told a story of a man who used to laugh and kid, but Snake saw none of that now. He was stern, bitter. Cadets called him Hell Master. Yet, at the same time, he was respected. Despite his disabilities, he could floor any one of them with a series of lightning quick motions, and his shrewd advice was said to have saved many a life in the field. His long blonde hair and ever present sun glasses contrasted with his stark, military attire. Snake wondered what his deal was since the day he met him. He seemed shifty, but nobody else seemed to notice it. Snake kept it to himself.

FOX HOUND was a secretive organization, even by covert black ops standards. Its members were an odd bunch. Every one of them was said to have some kind of supernatural power, strange ability, or proficiency well beyond normal human limitations. He recalled meeting an operative, his first day there, who claimed he could read his mind. The psycho was clad, head-to-toe, in bondage gear, and he refused to take off his WWI-style gas mask, even when eating.

Snake had balked at his claims, and the agent had rattled off a number of trivial facts, his favorite John Carpenter movies, his shoe size, a long list of sexual fetishes. He had to have read his file. While the strange man crammed a sandwich through the opening in his air filtration system, Snake saw a giant man eat a raw salmon, tearing at the gore with his bare hands. It was disgusting, but he wondered how it would taste. Raw food had always interested him. A spit ball hit him in the back of his head, and he grumbled. The only person behind him was a busty blonde number, but she was half a room ahead. What a weird lunch.

"Alright, now put on your underwater infiltration gear, but throw it away as soon as you're in."

"..Pardon?"

"Procure on site, Snake. Haven't you been paying attention?" Miller seemed annoyed.

"Uh.. yeah, but.. it's right there. Don't you think it'd help my mission if I just—"

"Procure. On. Site."

"…Right."

"And take a pack of your favorite brand of cigarettes with you. You never know when they might come in handy." Snake resisted the urge to go full anime and abruptly collapse.

"You're all ready, Snake. Make us proud."

He felt Miller's metal foot, firmly planted on his ass, as he pushed the rookie into the torpedo chute.

* * *

The radio buzzed in his ears. He wrenched the water out of his headband and answered.

"This is Solid Snake, how do you reply?"

"Snake, this is Big Boss. You dump your scuba gear into the ocean?"

"Yeah. Seems wasteful."

"FOX HOUND way, Snake. Don't argue with tradition. You got your cigarettes?"

"Yeah." Snake bent the tip, lighting one instantly.

"Keep 'em close. You never know when they might come in handy."

"Like for spotting laser beams."

"A cigar is better. More smoke, and you can use it to burn off leeches."

"I hear a cigar keeps hornets away too."

"More important than you might think."

"So this is Outer Heaven?"

"The very same."

"Looks like a dump."

"I'D LIKE TO SEE YO—err—yes, Snake. Intel says they've fallen on hard times. No doubt why they're making such demands."

"How does a second rate operation like this get their hands on a cutting edge piece of technology like Metal Gear?"

"It's not really that cutting edge. It's been in development since the 60's. The Russians—"

"Russians? The file said Dr. Madgar."

"Actually, it was a guy named Emmerich who made the first Metal Gears."

"The weapons scientist? Didn't he drown in his swimming pool?"

"Mysterious circumstances, Snake. Word is, his wife was having an affair with his son."

"Euugh.."

"Yeah, creepy guy. Had a thing for lesbians."

"Nothing like plucking a bit of that forbidden fruit."

"You don't have to pretend around me, Snake. We all know your track record with women."

"You read my file?"

"Mantis has a big mouth."

"Let's get back to the mission." There was an audible pout.

"You've got to rendezvous with Grey Fox. He was lost infiltrating the base. Our intel says he's still alive, but for how much longer, who knows. You've got to hurry, Snake."

"And the nukes?"

"Find the secret weapon, take it out of commission."

"You mean Metal Gear?"

"How did you know about that?!"

"You.. mentioned it a minute ago. Besides, everbody knows about Metal Gear."

"No, Snake. It's a secret weapon."

"Invented by the Russians, or that Emmerich guy, or this Dr. Madgar character. I know. Look, everybody knows about what went down in Central America. You were there, Boss."

"That's confidential, Snake. Stick to the mission."

"Uh.. sure. So I'll find Grey Fox, rescue this Madgar guy, and take the 'secret weapon' that walks around and fires nukes. I sure could use a rifle. A pistol. A knife. Anything."

"Procure on site, Snake. It's the FOX HOUND way."

"…Right. Snake out!"

"He knows too much, Miller."

"…Uh.. What?"

"Big Boss, over and out."

* * *

Snake drove his fist into the wounded soldier's solar plexus. "Gimme all yer food!"

The terrified mercenary reached for his rations.

Snake greedily seized the orange metal can, effortlessly breaking the soldier's neck. "Mmm.. B3. This one has all the meats in it!" He slid the life giving container into his backpack.

* * *

Soldiers ran terrified from the young FOX HOUNDer. There was no stealth in Outer Heaven that day. Solid Snake carefully planted bullets in the heads of every troop he found, despite the widespread use of tranquilizer rounds in covert-ops since the 1960's. He had procured a Beretta M92F, silencer optional, from a truck, and ever since he found the optional silence and opted to screw it onto the barrel, he had been popping guards to save time. They had been the lucky ones, spared deadly beatings received earlier, the skilled martial artist hungry for the meager rations they occasionally dropped.

* * *

"Where is he?!" A battle crazed Snake shouted in the face of the POW.

"Uh.. w-what do you wanna know?"

"Grey Fox!" He growled, blood dripped from his battered fists.

"You gotta—gotta get captured! It's the only way!"

"Captured! Me?! Never!" Snake threw the bound man on the floor, and began hacking away at his bonds. He straddled the hostage as he spoke, sharing wild new ideas, inspired by the carnage. He never felt so alive. He knicked an artery and the hostage bled out. He lost no steam, galloping to the next room, wondering who he might kill next.

* * *

"Snake.. This is Diane," The doldrum voice wafted over the radio, world-weary, hardened from years of hard living.

"Diane! You won't believe this! I just cut a guy's throat and a fountain of blood shot out! It is like the movies! They said it wasn't, but it is!"

"Uh…"

"I'm Snake, by the way. FOX HOUND operative and killing machine extraordinaire."

Silence.

"Updates on the mission!"

"I just finished giving a handy to one of the guards. He said something about Grey Fox being in a holding cell behind a hidden wall when he came."

"Weird." Snake thought a moment, "But useful." He reloaded his gun.

"Whatever," Diane said, hanging up quickly.

"This is what sex must be like!" Snake said, gunning down another sentry, a tight formation of rounds landing squarely in his back. "Sex must be awesome!" Snake felt especially awesome, like Kurt Russell must have felt when he rescued the president. He felt like a hero.

"Diane! This is Snake! I want to fuck you! In the vagina! With my diiick!"

"This is Steve, dude! Stop calling here! Diane is my girlfriend!"

"Steve! I wanna fuck you too! In the buuutt!"

Snake had lost all sense of morality, restraint, sanity. Big Boss listened, a paternal grin stretching across his tortured face. "A little violent, but the kid is good!"

Miller scowled. "You were pretty violently, too, for a stretch in the 80's."

"Yeah. But I just got out of a coma. Makes you restless."

"I lost half of my limbs, Boss. You don't have to remind me."

"You were obsessed with torture for awhile there."

"Makes you bitter."

"You don't have to remind me." Naked Snake unclenched his metallic red fist, lighting a fresh cigar with his finger tip.

"I feel dead inside, Boss." Kaz mused, massaging the commander's back.

"I'm already a monster." Big Boss relaxed.

"You feeling alright, Boss? You sound different."

The commander of FOX HOUND cleared his throat. "It's nothing, Kaz. Work my lower back."

* * *

Schneider shifted in his seat, nervously scanning blue prints.

"I can't find it, Snake," the rebel leader said, equal amounts of fear and apology.

"You're worthless!"

"I designed the place a long time ago, Snake. Big Boss wanted to bury me alive when I finished, so no one would know about his ass backwards layout."

"Did you say Big Boss?"

"When he started burying me neck deep in concrete, that was when I decided to rebel," Schneider spoke into a dead channel.

"Hello?"

"Snake, this is your commander. Someone is jamming the signal. We're sorry. ECM. We're trying to get it back."

"Okay," Snake shrugged, coming down from his battle mania slightly. "Guy was no use to me anyway. I don't want to talk to someone who designed an assbackwards place like this."

"Sometimes it's best to confuse the enemy, Snake."

"Well, it's working. I can't find Grey Fox anywhere."

"Turn yourself in, Snake."

"I try, but everyone I surrend to just freaks out and goes on alert."

"Uh.. let me make a few calls. I'll get back to you. Give it ten minutes, and try again."

"Whatever you say, but I don't think it's going to work."

* * *

Snake awoke, tied to a chair. His head was ringing, and the truth serum they injected him with burned in his veins. He felt like he had just got done drinking paint thinner, and that reminded him of his cousin Chuck.

"Gotta.. get.. out of here!"

Snake rocked the chair until it tipped on its side. Frantically, he struggled with the ropes.

"Think back to your training, Snake." Master Miller's voice bleared in his head. He wondered if it was the radio or his imagination. Maybe the truth serum had really fucked him up.

"Master! I'm tied up, and they took my knife! How am I supposed to get out?"

"You're not tied up, Snake. You've been drinking paint thinner."

"Otacon! Gimme my damn cigarettes!" Snake gurgled.

"What?"

Snake stood, pulling his pants back up.

"Get a grip, soldier! Miller out."

"This country is a shit hole! Their women all have mustaches and vodka tastes like paint thinner!" Snake beat angrily on the walls until one of them vanished.

"Why does my ass hurt?" He grumbled, stepping into the newly discovered passageway.

A figure peered at him from across the room. His silver grey hair and stern demeanor contrasted with his boyishly beautiful face. "You must be Snake."

"OHMYGOD! YERFUCKINGBEAUTIFUL!" Snake growled, the effects of the 'Outer Heaven vodka' still coursing through his veins.

The bishonen captive blushed.

"I WANT TO FUCK YOU!"

"How about you.. untie these ropes, and we'll 'talk'."

"SHUT UP!" Snake charged the captive, freeing him from his chair, but keeping his hands bound tight.

Before the agent could get his bearings, Solid Snake was pulling down his pants. He felt his strong, rough fingers eagerly teasing his anus.

"You like it rough," he groaned.

"YOU'RE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN I'VE EVER SEEN!" Snake screamed with enthusiasm, driving his unlubricated member deep into his butt.

_;; Grey Fox emoted.

"I'm going to show you what it means to be a soldier!"

Snake pounded Grey Fox's asshole furiously, grunting with each thrust. His eager and inexperienced member throbbed with the power of a nuclear holocaust.

"DIANE! YOU'RE SUCH A FILTHY SLUT!" David Hayter masturbated as he growled into the mic. The audio director pounded on the soundproof glass, but he ignored him. The polite Japanese man looked embarrassed as Hayter stroked his member, cupping his balls gently with his other hand.

Quinton Flynn moaned suggestively into his own mic, urging Hayter on. "FUCK ME HARDER, TOUGH GUY! I'M AT YOUR MERCY!" He unzipped his pants, stroking his own member in time with Hayter's.

"I'M GOING TO CUM IN YOUR FILTHY PRISONER ASS!"

"PUMP ME FULL OF IT, SNAKE! GIVE ME YOUR LOAD! FILL ME UP!"

"AWW YEAH!" Snake groaned, his whole body tensing up as he emptied his spasming balls into Grey Fox's eager milky hole.

"You're pretty good!" Grey Fox quipped.

"Hrmm.." Snake fished his cigarettes from out of his front pocket.

In the distance, Snake heard the shouting of a voice acting director, but he didn't care. He bent his cigarette, taking a long hard drag as his member relaxed, sliding out of the gaping hole of his contact.

"Going to untie me now?"

Snake fiddled with the handcuffs, freeing a pair of bruised wrists.

"I'll say it again, you must be Snake."

"We've had this conversation already, Diane."

"What are you talking about? I'm Grey Fox."

Snakes bleary eyes focused, the man's face somehow gleamed in the dim light of the cell, his beautiful silver hair like moonlight. Snake's penis twitched.

"You going to take care of me too, big boy?"

"Err.. yeah.."

Snake switched his radio off.

* * *

"Our boy is growing up so fast," Big Boss said, applying another layer of bright yellow finger polish to his good hand.

"I still don't trust him, Boss." Kaz said, taking his ginger bread cookies out of the oven.

"You worry too much, Kaz." Big Boss teased his hair with a robotic arm.

"It's kept me alive this long," the instructor said, scowling at the crispy fox shaped cookies.

There was a long pause.

"Do you still love me, Boss?"

"Of course I do, Kaz. You know I couldn't do any of this without you."

The commander's rough lips found the instructor's. "I love you, Boss."

"I love you too, Kaz."

* * *

Snake was coming down. He felt guilty, ashamed. He walked out slowly, hoping people wouldn't notice the smell of sex that clung to him like MSF brand body spray.

Grey Fox gayly followed.

"Damnit, Grey Fox!" Snake growled. "Get out of here!"

"But Snake, I got to tell you about Metal Gear!"

"I know, already. Big Boss told me everything. Then he told me to forget it."

"There's a secret history we know nothing about, Snake."

"Stop talking to me!" Snake hissed.

Grey Fox sighed, pulling on his shirt.

"I-I gotta go." Snake walked away abruptly, his head swimming with insecurity.

"Hey zere, gay boi!"

"WHAT?! WHO SAID THAT?!"

"Over here!" A tall, bare chested, leather clad man greeted him. His chest was oily, and atop his head sat a captain's hat. Snake barely noticed his enormous gun, distracted by all the muscles in front of him.

"I am.. how you zay.. master here!"

"Uh.. really?"

"Zee jailor! Zat is it."

"Oh.."

"Are you enjoying your stay, mein Junge?"

"Yeah.. I was just.. wrestling.. with.. one of the other prisoners."

"Oh?"

"Gotta.. stay in shape, even in captivity. Yeah!" Snake growled, flexing his muscles.

The jailor swooned.

"You like that, huh?" Snake felt his shame dissipating.

"As much as I vant to spend all day exploring your.. impressive physique, I am afraid I have zee orders to kill you!" Every word he spoke sounded wrong to Snake. He felt his shame returning with every flamboyant word. And he was German, which made it worse. Snake was beginning to feel nauseous when the words registered, forcing him to snap into action.

Snake glanced around the room, spotting a door marked storage and ducking into it just as the German man leveled his massive shotgun at the operative.

Snake dove into the room as he fired.

"Zey call me Shoot Gunner, because I love to shoot mein gun at zee men who threaten zis place!" Buckshot riddled door as Snake rummaged the room for his supplies.

"I vas kicked out of zee German special forces because of my lifestyle choices!"

"Yer suppose to be Russian!" Snake said, loading his Beretta and cramming spare rations into his bag.

His accent immediately changed. "I meaning to say Spetznaz! Soviet say only decadent capitalist culture produce people of my.. persuasion." He needlessly discharged more ammo into the wall.

Snake felt better somehow. The gay German was too much, and falling for it was making him question his manliness. A gay Russian though, that was a little bit like finding a leprechaun in your breakfast cereal, which happened to Snake once when he was eight. Peeking his head out, the jailer even looked less gay now. He ducked back in before a barrage of lead shredded the remnants of the supply room door.


End file.
